


The gentleman's guide to pining and angst

by BookDragon2005



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Drinking, Drunk Confession, First Kiss, Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Underage Drinking, connfession, minor refrence to sucide, srsly minor like blink and youll miss it, why do i do this??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-01-10 22:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18417209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookDragon2005/pseuds/BookDragon2005
Summary: Percy and Monty had planned to go out together (as freinds) but when Monty is very late, Percy sneaks up to his room and finds him beaten half to death and very drunk.Angst ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

I tap my foot impatiently aginst the grey concrete of the pavement. Its almost half past ten, and we’ve missed the first act and half of the second.

I know that Monty isn’t the biggest fan of operas, but after he forced me to sit through that disaster of an action movie, he owes me one. He had seemed genuinely excited to go though, texting me in the small hours of the morning asking me what on earth “opera wear was”. I told him that no, Monty, you do not have to wear a dress and a 17th century collar (however good he might look in it). Perhaps telling him to wear that black suit was a bit more for me than him, but what can I say? He does look dashing in it (he looks dashing in everything).

But you can never make assumptions with Monty. Which is why I find myself five minutes later climbing in through the tree that leads up to his window.

_Its open._

I freeze. He never leaves his window open, always preferring the sweltering warmth for some un-godly reason. He never leaves it upon… unless he was waiting for me to sneak in.

 _Oh god, Monty, what has_ he _done now?_

I hold back a shudder as I think of him lying in bed waiting for me for over an hour, bruised and cut all over. Night like these are always the worst, when I have to see him like this, broken down and helpless, and I’m reminded once again how useless I truly am.

I pull myself through the window and into his room. He's lying there on the bed, shivering, and I make note of the bottles of whiskey lying around his curled up form. _Christ_. I walk over slowly, and place a hand on his shoulder, gently, gently, making sure not to squeeze in case it's bruised. I try to push him on his back so I can start treating his wounds, but he refuses to move, instead clutching the empty whiskey bottle tighter and suckling his thumb like a baby.

“Monty, Monty, hey. Turn around Monty, I need to treat those bruises.” I whisper into his ear, but he immeadiatly tenses up-

“Oh god please leave me alone, please I’m sorry, please father no more, oh god, oh god” he’s shaking more now, fists in the air attempting to shield invisible blows.

“Monty, no, I’m not your father ok, it me, its Percy, come on darling wake up. Come on please.” I’m begging at this point, my heart unwilling to take anymore seconds of seeing Monty like this.

“Perce? Percy?” he blinks wearily up at me, his long eyelashes covering his half-closed eyes.

“Yes, it me, don’t worry.” Those words seem to break some sort of invisible dam, and he clutches my shirt tightly, pulling himself up so he can lie on my shoulder. He is sobbing, hard, and leaving a mess of snot and tears on my shirt.

“Oh god Perce, I thought I was gone for, I thought he was going to end me… why can’t it be over, Percy, I just want it to end.” He pulls away from me slightly, and bites down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, ”Perce?”

“Yes?”

“You-you wont leave right?” he gives a nervous chuckle, “not that you have to stay, you should probably leave, you deserve better tans some halfwit queer boy. You deserve _so much better_ , Perce.”

“Shh, of course I’m never going to leave. We’re going to college in a few months together, remember? I’m going to study music and you’re going to study creative writing. We’re going to have fun and be free and disappoint both our families. Right?” I see the beginning of a giggle begin to form on his lips, so I lean down slowly and brush my nose against his, smiling gently “Right?” he does giggle then, a soft, meek, sound, far removed from his usual roaring laughter.

But, it’s something. But his face suddenly falls again, and he gives a big sob, “But, you're going to go off and get married to a perfect girl who doesn’t have issues and is super pretty and you’ll have a hundred kids and you’ll forget all about me and its not fair that you get do that when I’ll never love anyone else because of you.” I try to hold back a giant grin and the urge to kiss Monty senseless because does this mean I have a chance now? Instead I control myself and start tending to my best friend’s wounds, because the fact that he was just _beaten within an inch of his life_ is far more important than your romantic endeavours, Percy Newton, you fool.

I lay him down on the bed and go grab the first aid kit I have stored under his bed. He seems to have fallen asleep, and since there seem to be no wounds on his back I suppose this is fine.


	2. Chap 2

The shrill sound of an alarm wakes me from my somewhat peaceful sleep.

 _Ugh. Where is that sound_ coming _from._

I would never set an alarm during the summer holidays of all times. And I had assumed I would be waking up at Percy’s flat given that we-

_Shit._

I turn slowly around. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck._ I don’t realize that I’m saying this out loud when Percy begins to move and gives a leisurely stretch.

“Where is that sound coming from?” he groans “Turn it _off_ , Monty.”

But, I don’t move. I dare not. Theyre going to find me here, a century later with my face in my hands and my lips mouthing the word ‘fuck’ over and over again. I can’t bear to look in his eyes and see the pity, or the embarrassment, or the hate. I know whatever it is, it wont be the look that my traitorous heart wishes for.

“Monty?” he says, all nonchalant, as if my world isn’t crumbling around me, “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

I notice with a start that my wounds have been bandaged over and presumably disinfected. The alarm has also been turned off, which is a plus. At least the soundtrack to my doom won’t be a shrill shriek.

“I’m fine, Perce.” I mumble, “You can go now.”

“ _I can go now?_ I’m not going to leave you alone after yesterday.” He sounds hurt by the idea, because of course he is. Of course he wants to help, the self-sacrificing bastard.

“Just go.” _Please stay_ “I want to be alone” _I really, really don’t_ , “You can leave and come back tomorrow and we can pertend that yesterday never happened.”

“Why would I do that?” he asks, genuine wonder in his voice.

I give a great sigh, perfected over the years by way of having an annoying little sister, “Because, Percy Newton, I was drunk, and didn’t mean half of what I was saying, and I want to have some time _alone.”_  The last word escapes me through clenched teeth and I look defiantly up at Percy, who seems somewhat shocked by my sudden anger.

“Alright then. Whatever you need. I’ll be back to pick you up at three, ok?” and with that he stumbles sleepily over to the window and climbs down. Probably off to find a pretty girl to serenade with his violin.

 _Come on Monty, you know that’s not fair,_ chastises my inner self.

“Well, life isn’t fair, so get over it.” Great, I’m talking to myself. This day is going absolutely fucking _fantastic_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh criticism would be much appreciated. If you can find things to make it better then comment away!


	3. Chapter 3

I am wandering through the streets of my good old hometown, attempting to find a bar that is both open at 9 o’clock in the morning, and is shady enough not to card me at the door. Not an entirely easy endeavour, but there is nothing like the prospect of getting absolutely smashed to motivate the soul.

I’m wearing sunglasses and a completely ugly looking bastard of a hat, because one thing I dread to face more than my bastard of a father or Percy is the suns’ rays with a hangover.

Anyone who claims that sunlight is good for you is a sadistic twat who hates all of us drunks. Fuck science.

But it turns out father fate has decided to be on my side for once, and I see an appropriately decrepit looking bar with a faded neon sign that says ‘open 24 hours’. My mood is immeadiatly lifted, and I walk in, the scent of cheap vodka and sweat more familiar to me at this point than my own.

Its about 9 in the afternoon at this point, as I can tell by the sudden influx of office workers into the bar. I like this bar, I’ve decided. The bartender is nice, and he keeps offering me free rinks and asking me about my day.

I’m only coherent enough to mumble some half sentence about ‘my-hic- tru luvv is -sob-straight’. He rubbed my back soothingly and handed me my 10th (10th?) shot of vodka.

After I drown my shot I decide that it’s a great idea to dance. And its an even better idea to shout the fact that I’m gonna do just that.

“I’M GONNA FUCKING DANCE!” I yell, sliding off my seat into the floor. I catch a couple of people giving me weird looks, but I don’t care. I’m going to dance, and then everything will be fine.

I stumble onto that dance floor and start making jerking motions in time to the music—well, _attempt_ to make jerking motions in time to the music might be a more apt descriptor. Details, details.

I stay like this for ten minutes, until I decide that making out with someone would be the best course of action.

So I approach the hot blond on my left and I make an absolutely hilarious joke along the lines of ‘a monkeys butt is _green’._ I think he might’ve rolled his eyes and then pulled me in for a kiss, which quickly turned into me sitting on is lap and groping his biceps. He has very nice biceps, actually.

I’m distracted from blondies very nice biceps when I hear a thud next to me and a growl of “Monty”.

I giggle and lay me head in the crook of the mans shoulder “That’s me. Blondie, that’s me.” I feel a pair of arms pulling me from blondies lap, forcing me to stand up on my own feet. I give a whine at this, because there was absolutely no reason to pull me up from my very comfortable perch. None.

“Dude, what are you doing?” I hear blondie say.

“I _’m taking him home.”_ An oddly familiar voice replies.

I gasp at this new information “No! If I go home-“ _hiccup_ “-th-then Percy will find me-“ _sob_ “-and he’ll say he doesn’t want to be-” _shudder_ “-friends with me anymorrrre.”

“Why the hell would I say that—for fucks sake Monty!” The same pair of arms pull me up from the ground and push me into a piggy back. The next course of action is, obviously, to start bemoaning my lost love to this stranger who is struggling to contain either laughter or tears.

“—and then, _and then,_ I tild him I loved himmm! I’m so stupid nice back! Hes straight, and now he hates me, and he thinks I'm an idiot and hes gonna ignore me forever and he’s reeeeeallllyyy hot. Have I told you how hot and awesome and kind he is?”

“Yes. Many times. But please, do continue.” Replies the stranger, a small chuckle escaping him.

“M’kay. He’s like, super—oh!” My eyes widen at the sight of a familiar building “NOOOO. I’m. not. Going. Home."

**Author's Note:**

> UHMM SO??? Comments? Please? idk where the f im going with this halp


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